


Reflections on a Lunar Landscape

by JennaSinclair



Series: Sharing the Sunlight (STS) [2]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 18:01:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11949678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JennaSinclair/pseuds/JennaSinclair
Summary: Short weeks after they have formed a relationship, Kirk and Spock meet an old friend.





	Reflections on a Lunar Landscape

**Author's Note:**

> "Reflections on a Lunar Landscape" is the second entry in my Sharing the Sunlight series. Each work was written so that a reader could catch up with what is going on if they haven’t read the previous stories, but of course you’ll get a bit more if you read the series in order. I use the name Jenna Sinclair for this K/S series. I use Jenna Hilary Sinclair for all other fanfiction and my professional work.
> 
> Here's the series in chronological order:
> 
> 1\. Sharing the Sunlight (novel)  
> 2\. Reflections on a Lunar Landscape  
> 3\. Pursuing Hyacinths (novella)  
> 4\. Heart’s Delight (novella)  
> 5\. Primal Scream  
> 6\. Parallel Courses  
> 7\. Double Trouble  
> 8\. Son of Sarek (novella)  
> 9\. Promises to Keep (novel)  
> 10\. Jagged Edges  
> 11\. Manna  
> 12\. Journey’s End  
> 13\. One Night  
> 14\. In the Shade (novel)

“Wanna know something?” A fork pointed across the table at Spock.

“I am always attempting to broaden my knowledge, Doctor.” Spock looked up from his dinner expectantly.

“Well, if you broadened it any further you’d really be a walking computer. I wish you’d lighten up a little, Sp --”

Spock smoothly interrupted the familiar criticisms. “...but I question your ability to provide me with significant empirical information at this time. Your emotionally based comments are of little interest.” He returned his attention to the plate before him.

“You question?” McCoy mock-sputtered, but part of him was pleased. If the first officer were willing to engage in the unique form of repartee which had become an integral part of their relationship, and a source of considerable amusement for the rest of the senior officers on the ship, he would be more than happy to oblige. Spock had been unusually busy lately, doing whatever it was that kept first officers and curious Vulcans busy. They hadn’t recently done much verbal sparring.

McCoy was well aware of their expectant audience. Kirk had paused with his coffee cup halfway to his mouth, and was grinning across the table at him with elbows planted firmly. Next to McCoy, Scotty had hitched himself to one side with an arm on the back of his chair, and was making no pretense of eating until the exchange was over.

“You question?” McCoy repeated. “Whaddya think, doctors are educated in kindergarten?”

“Indeed not, Doctor,” Spock returned levelly. He pushed back from the table a bit, and folded his arms across his chest in his habitual pose. Only someone who knew him very well would perceive the utterly relaxed attitude, and connect it with a quiet enjoyment. “I am well aware of your educational qualifications. However, I am fully briefed on the various research projects currently in progress on the _Enterprise_ , and as I have already perused the latest journals transmitted to the ship, I do not believe it would be possible for you to provide me with information which I do not possess.”

“If it’s information you’re wanting, I could give you a lecture on the Fabrini archives, and you know it.” McCoy was indignant. “What do you think I spend my days doing, twiddlin’ my thumbs? And besides....”

“Bones, Bones, what’s your point?” Kirk looked mightily amused, but he maintained his self-appointed role as mediator between his two friends. “What did you want to say?”

McCoy stuffed a forkful of mashed potatoes into his mouth and spoke around it. “There’s more to life than just facts and figures, you know. I just wanted to say...,” he stopped dramatically to take a long sip from his glass of iced tea, knowing he had everyone’s attention and willing to draw out the moment just for effect, “I just wanted to say that I think you,” this time a finger pointed at Spock, “have a cold.”

An eyebrow rose. Spock looked affronted. “A cold?”

“Yeah. As in common...? What we poor humans tend to suffer through regularly.”

Kirk turned a little in his chair and swept a glance over his first officer. Spock’s eyes automatically met his, and Kirk gave him a small smile. “You feeling all right, Commander?”

Lately, McCoy had noticed, Kirk had taken to calling Spock `Commander’. Even now, when the formal term couldn’t hide the friendly concern behind the word.

“I can assure you, Captain, I am in perfect health.”

“You sneezed twice today. Just in the time I was with you in the labs.” Now that he had made his point, McCoy was reluctant to relinquish the floor.

“Perhaps because of dust in the air.? Spock’s eyebrow was firmly set in the `I dare you to contradict me’ mode.

“Dust in the _Enterprise_ labs?” McCoy couldn’t believe Spock had resorted to such a lame, and lamebrained, excuse. Maybe he was on the track of something here. “You’ve got to be kidding. Besides, you’ve been looking tired to me lately, Spock. You sure you’ve been getting enough sleep?”

“Doctor, I find this discussion of my health to be an inappropriate topic for the dinner hour. If I am in need of your services....” Spock paused, and McCoy instantly realized what he had been about to say.

“You wouldn’t tell me anyway, and you don’t want to lie about it. Okay.” He shifted his attention to Kirk. “Jim, if this overeducated genius has a fit of sneezes on the bridge, you might want to point him in my direction, eh? I might not be able to cure a cold, but I can alleviate the symptoms, you know.”

Scott spoke up for the first time. He had turned back to his dinner. “Ah think somethin’s goin’ around. Ah had to send Shinswani on first shift to sickbay, she was coughin’ so much.”

“Bones, anything serious? We’ll be reaching the Tristar station in an hour, and we’ll need a full engineering crew to get those repairs done in time.” Kirk looked at his CMO for confirmation.

“Nah, just a few sniffles going around, Jim. The crew’s fit enough. How long are we gonna be there?”

“I hope no more than two days. Komack wants us out near the Corrigan colonies in a week, but we’ve got to stop off here and get those environmental repairs done first. We’re lucky that the station had the parts in stock.”

“Aye, even so it’ll feel mighty strange ta be dealin’ with the Johnson Combine again. They might’ve changed their name, but Tristar or nae, it’s still the same.” Scotty recalled the _Enterprise’s_ recent unpleasant involvement with the galactic corporation.

“Not all of the employees of the Combine were engaged in illegal activities, Mister Scott. The name has been changed in an attempt to avoid just the association which you have made.”

“And you know the director of the Tristar station, don’t you, Jim?” McCoy queried.

A nod while Kirk swallowed. “Allen Stewart. Spock knows him too. He was an instructor at the Academy. And that reminds me....” Kirk turned to look directly at Spock. The hazel eyes were twinkling. “We’ve received an invitation.”

Spock’s eyebrow flew up, and he intoned, “Indeed?”

“Indeed,” Kirk said, and there was a tiny smile hovering on his face. “Allen asked us to dinner down on the base tomorrow evening, our time. Wants to catch up on old times.” Then Kirk’s tone of voice changed, became quiet and serious. “The two of us, together. Can you go?”

There was a pause while the two men looked at one another. As so often happened between captain and first officer, there was a subtle undercurrent to their conversation and an exclusivity to their words that blanked out McCoy and Scott as if they were not even there.

McCoy looked from one intent face to the other, and began to feel a bit uncomfortable with the silence. If Spock didn’t want to go, which would be typical, why didn’t he just say so instead of just sitting there staring at Jim? And what was so almighty important about them going down to the base to have dinner anyway?

“You know that I would be pleased to attend.”

“Do I?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Scotty,” Kirk turned back to his dinner, and suddenly they were a group of four again, not two and two, “have you drawn up a schedule for the installation?”

They became immersed in a technical discussion that Spock soon joined, and McCoy was left to contemplate the remains of his dinner. There wasn’t much on the station to interest him, so he wouldn’t be beaming over. Not even an old friend such as Jim had found. At least the `old friend’ Jim and Spock was going to see was another man and not one of those lovely ladies the captain seemed to run into all the time. Didn’t seem fair, sometimes, the way Jim had with women. Came as naturally as breathing to him, like he’d been born with it. Didn’t seem fair at all.

*****

Spock paused five steps inside his quarters. The class on survival techniques that he was teaching after first shift dinner to a group of junior officers had lasted fifteen minutes longer than planned, but still he had reached the red lit rooms before Kirk. There was no sense of his captain, and his lover, here. The bureaucratic details of docking at the station and arranging for the vital repairs must be taking longer than they had expected.

He breathed in deeply, allowing himself to relax in the warmer air. Spock could remember when the temperature in his quarters had habitually been set even higher than it was now, but he had willingly turned his thermostat down for Jim. It was possible that Spock himself had not yet adjusted to the change, for he currently endured a slightly scratchy throat, and showed an unfortunate tendency to sneeze in Dr. McCoy’s presence, but those were minor concerns compared to Jim’s ability to sleep in Spock’s quarters in comfort.

Spock moved smoothly over to his computer outlet to check for messages. If Jim were to be significantly delayed.... But no, there were no indications of any problems, and no veiled references that could be interpreted as `go to bed and sleep tight’. Spock’s lips curved in a small smile as he remembered the first time Jim had said that to him. It had brought such memories of Amanda.... Now it was a quiet joke between them, with Jim looking at him with such affection, and, as often as not, tousling Spock’s hair as he spoke.

It was a quiet night. There were no urgent requests for his presence as first officer, and with a sense of relief Spock moved to the bed, sat, and removed his boots. He carefully placed them side by side next to the nightstand. There was a small streak marring the shiny surface next to the left toe, and Spock lifted the boot to examine it. How had...? Of course. Only last night, Jim laughingly removing Spock’s footwear, throwing his boots carelessly one upon the other on the floor, pushing him back against the bed, covering him with strength and sweet words....

Spock lifted his eyes from the boot in his hand to slowly survey his rooms. There was no change from the way they had looked three months ago. There were no golden tunics hanging in the closet, no distinctively styled hairbrush on the dresser, no books on human history adorning his shelves. There were no differences to show how his perception of these rooms had changed. Yet to him, they now carried the imprint of his human lover as much as they carried his own. Quiet expectation had changed to happiness.

Spock allowed himself to be filled with a sense of wonder. It had taken him some time, and Jim’s help, but he had been able to adjust to the emotions that he experienced now. And the certain knowledge that he had of Jim’s love, his devotion, even his surprising attraction to Spock’s body had helped.

Now they were building a life together. Spock was keenly aware of his own inexperience in maintaining a close, intimate relationship, and had expressed his doubts. But Jim had overridden him with confidence, saying that they would learn together.

And so far the education had been gratifying. Soon they would tell McCoy. They had already spoken to each other of commitment; bonding and one of the various formal ceremonies of Kirk’s heritage were in their future, but neither was willing to rush to achieve them. What they had now was so precious, so special. Spock was sure that a part of his motivation, at least, in delaying the announcement to McCoy was a reluctance to change anything, anything in the world he had now. Fanciful as it might seem, he had no desire to burst the bubble and allow any other presence within his special happiness with Jim.

He had not dreamed of this current contentment; he had not known enough of the emotion to even imagine it. But it was a gift from Jim, lovingly offered three months ago, and now nourished from trembling infancy by them both. Spock wondered what this wondrous emotion would become with maturity, then dismissed the notion. Speculation, especially concerning emotions with which he had little experience, was surely illogical. As Jim would say, `relax and enjoy it’. Indeed.

He glanced down at the boot in his hands, noticing the scuff mark, remembering the marks upon his body that Jim had made. They were, in a way, similar. Marks of possession. He could not prevent the small physical thrill which seemed to emanate from the base of his spine. The beginnings of sexual arousal, his mind efficiently catalogued. He glanced once at the door, then back to the boot. Jim was not here yet. He was premature.

Spock replaced the boot next to its mate, and stripped off his tunic and thermal undershirt. He rose smoothly and completed undressing, rolled his clothing up into a ball as he walked towards the bathroom he shared with Kirk. He placed the clothing in the recycler and dialed up the heat in the water shower before he stepped inside the stall.

Water this hot would have turned Jim’s skin bright red, but Spock luxuriated in the steamy mist. He reached for the soap pump, and gathered a handful of liquid. Carefully he lathered his body, fingers skimming down his arms, across the chest hair, down along his sides. Each movement he made was deliberate, behind it a full awareness of what he was doing, of how he was touching himself.

Ever since he and Jim had become lovers, he had been most meticulous in his cleansing routines. He appreciated Jim’s own clean body, its fresh, masculine scent, the softness of the skin. He would offer no less. And especially since....

His hand wandered down the curve of one of his buttocks, soaping it, then found its way along the crevice which led to the entrance to his body. His finger found the tight hole, gently circled it with a soapy finger, pushed slightly with a blunt fingernail to work some more of the soap inside. This was the place where Jim found such pleasure, and gave it in return.

Spock looked down at his penis, unsurprised to find it half-erect. It seemed that Jim had opened the flood-gates to his long suppressed sexuality, and this was one of the evidences. Spock found himself aroused far more frequently than he would have believed likely, and had used his ingrained controls to redirect that arousal when it occurred in inappropriate circumstances. But, as Jim had recently taught him, the shower was an appropriate place for sexual thoughts, especially when there was an anticipation of physical pleasure in the evening ahead.

With the thought, his penis gave a small twitch upwards, and his tight anal ring spasmed around the tip of his finger still caught inside. He slowly withdrew the finger. Before Jim, he had never touched himself so intimately, had rarely contemplated the pleasure that his own or another’s touch might bring. Now he knew. He had seen his own penis disappearing within Jim’s mouth, had felt the ecstatic, indescribable roiling in his loins as he hovered moments from ejaculating into that moistness, against that loving tongue. And he had felt the piercing of Jim’s hard flesh probing within him, gloried in the sounds of pleasure which he, his body, forced from the lips of his lover. Yes, now he knew.

Spock bent over each leg and washed thoroughly, then turned to allow the water to rinse him clean. He went to close off the flow, then paused as he speculatively looked down at his toes. Heel still planted firmly on the shower floor, he lifted and wriggled all five toes of his right foot. A few nights ago, Jim had murmured something about wanting to suck him all over. And Spock had heard of humans for whom the digital extremities were a source of sexual excitement. It was possible....

He bent down and thoroughly soaped all ten of his toes, and the spaces between.

When Spock emerged damp-headed from the shower, his quarters were still silent. It was possible that Jim would be delayed for some time. He absentmindedly pulled on a pair of black uniform pants and a heavy duty white sweater. There had been an interesting response to the Astrophysics department’s latest scientific paper on Graves interstellar masses which he had been meaning to study in detail....

When the door to their joint bathroom swished open twenty minutes later, Spock was seated at his desk, deep in the intricacies of higher level physics. He had to consciously pull away from the fascination. Kirk was standing in the doorway, stretching his arms over his head and yawning conspicuously.

“I’m glad that’s over with,” he said with a final stretch. “Scotty’s finally all set up. He’s gonna start third shift on the diagnostics, then first shift tomorrow will tackle the relay problem.” He wandered over to the cabinet where Spock kept a supply of juices. “Want something to drink?”

“I am not thirsty at this time.”

“Okay.” Kirk’s hand hovered over the three bottles on the sideboard, then selected the representative from Andoria. Spock was amused. In the six weeks since he had initiated the availability of beverages for his lover, Jim had chosen the Andorian saava juice 92% of the time. After one experimental gesture, the Vulcan and Rigellian offerings had been left strictly alone.

Kirk took his glass over to the chair in front of Spock’s desk and placed it on the surface. He leaned over to take off his boots, sat back in the chair, picked up his glass again, drank of it deeply, and sighed. He looked up and locked gazes with a first officer who had a decided twinkle in his eyes. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing is `funny’. I am merely pleased to see you make yourself... I believe the term is `at home’.”

Kirk grunted. “Right. The fellow who speaks about twelve languages and was raised by a Standard speaking mother isn’t sure of the term `at home’. You can’t fool me anymore, Spock. I’m the one who melds with you, remember?”

The planes of Spock’s face softened as he returned Kirk’s affectionate gaze. “I remember, Jim.”

They sat for a moment in contented silence. Spock’s hands lay loosely in his lap. Kirk took another, more moderate sip of his drink and leaned forward, arms on the desk. “What are you working on?”

“Professor Kramer’s letter which was printed in the Federation Journal of Interstellar Physics. He disagrees with some of the conclusions we drew concerning the Graves interstellar mass.”

“Will you be writing a response?”

“As you know, the original paper was a joint project. The staff of our Astrophysics department has indicated their desire to continue the dialogue through the Journal. However, I believe that I will not actively participate this time. Although I will, of course, be available for consultation.”

“Uh-huh. Doesn’t sound too urgent to me. Will it keep?”

This was a game which they had played before. Gently. “Lt. Tu and Ensign Singh have already requested my input. I should not keep them waiting long.”

“Oh. I suppose I shouldn’t interrupt you then.” Jim’s gaze dropped innocently to the desk, then swept upwards to look at Spock through lowered eyelashes. The look instantly transformed him into a combination little boy and lusty satyr.

Spock hastily returned his eyes to the computer screen. “That would certainly facilitate the completion of the project.”

A rustle, as Kirk apparently stood. Firm footsteps, and a hand upon his shoulder. Spock concentrated fiercely on the glowing script before him. The pressure on his shoulder increased, and Spock found his chair being slowly spun about until he looked up into the face of his captain. “But there are certain things it wouldn’t facilitate,” Kirk said softly.

“Such as?” He could not prevent amusement from creeping into his voice, and there was a little tick at the corner of Jim’s mouth as well.

“Such as facilitating your commanding officer’s severe case of horniness.” The grip on Spock’s right shoulder tightened. Then Kirk placed his other hand on the left shoulder, and bent until he was just inches from the face which, although cracking, was still set in granite.

“Captain, I can assure you I have read the Starfleet Manual thoroughly, and such activities do not fall under your command prerogatives.”

“Oh, but I didn’t say that I was exercising my command prerogatives.” The voice was silky smooth, persuasive, and as loving as if they had just kissed. Spock closed his eyes and swallowed hard. He felt a hand leave his shoulder, and land gently with just a fingertip upon his cheek. The tip moved down the slope of his face slowly. As Jim had already illustrated on four previous occasions, he knew just how to play this game. Spock folded his arms tightly over his chest in an effort toward self-control, but still felt the accelerating beat of his heart pulsing in his side.

The finger continued in its path, down to his jawline, over to his chin, where it paused to be joined by its fellows. Spock felt his head being tilted back as Jim exerted the smallest of pressures with his fingers. “I have other prerogatives, you know.” His captain was whispering now. “There’s the small matter of...,” a kiss, the briefest pressing of lips upon his firmly closed mouth, “...being the one who loves you.”

Suddenly Spock felt pressure upon the sides of his legs, and then weight upon his lap as he was straddled in the chair. His eyes flew open to find a face just inches from, and a little above his own. His arms went out automatically to encircle and support Jims back and pull him closer. The intriguing softness of his lover’s genitals was pressed firmly against him.

Kirk nuzzled down against the side of Spock’s face. “Doesn’t that give me the right to be `facilitated’, Spock? Being the one who loves you?” Those tantalizing, cool lips moved upwards to his ears. They both had weaknesses about their ears, and Jim had moved straight to use his most potent ammunition. His captain had always been a most notable tactician, Spock thought hazily, and tilted his head to give his lover better access.

For a minute or two there was only the sound of an eartip being thoroughly sucked and licked. Spock fought valiantly against it, but eventually Jim slowly swiped all the way from earlobe up to the pointed tip, and Spock could not restrain himself. He moaned, moved his hands down Kirk’s back to the lush buttocks, and pushed his rapidly hardening penis forward.

A voice sounded low right against his ear. “Am I to take it that I can safely consign Professor Kramer to memory storage?” Without waiting for an answer, Kirk leaned over Spock’s shoulder and quietly said, “Computer, off.”

He sat back straighter in Spock’s lap, and moved up and down carefully. Spock could feel the hardness of a human erection rub against him. It felt wonderful.

There was a gleam in Kirk’s eye as he said, “You know, I kind of like it here. It’s the first time I’ve had to lean down to kiss you.”

Their lips finally met, but Spock would not allow their kiss to deepen. He pulled his head back. “I have not heard you complain before.”

“Oh, no. I don’t have any complaints.” Jim pulled Spock’s head forward between his two hands and dropped a kiss on his nose. “Except that I want to be kissed and you’re not obliging. Kiss me, Spock?” Then, very sweetly, “Please?”

Kissing Jim had to be one of the greatest pleasures he would ever have in his life. Spock loved the touch of the soft lips, and of the wet tongue against his own, and he loved the duels they frequently fought to gain access to the other’s mouth. He allowed his lover to win this one, for he wanted to revel in the coolness.

Spock had frequently wanted to continue their kissing for much longer than they actually indulged, but they always grew too excited to go on for long. Tonight was no exception. They were both breathlessly, enthusiastically kissing, but Jim had moved forward in his lap to squeeze his genitals against Spock’s stomach, and Spock was pushing up with quick little jabs to stimulate his own swollen sex.

“Unless we get our clothes off, Spock,” Jim gasped, and ducked to run his tongue along the thin upper lip, “we’re not going to get much accomplished here.”

“Agreed. Let us adjourn to the bed. I wish to accomplish something.” And Spock pushed against his lover’s waist.

By the time they had moved into the bedroom, removed their clothing, and pulled the bedspread and covers down, some of the urgency was gone. Kirk slid under the blankets first, and held them up invitingly for his bedmate. As Spock settled in next to him, he asked, “Are you sure you’re feeling all right? Bones is a pretty good diagnostician.”

“The doctor was unnecessarily concerned, Jim. I experienced only a minor respiratory irritation.”

Strong fingers threaded through the neat fringe of bangs. “But you woke up shivering last night, remember? We forgot to turn up the heat in my quarters.”

“I am accustomed to normal ship’s temperature during my duty hours. I do not believe sleeping in your quarters will harm me, especially if you allow me my share of the blankets.”

Jim smiled at that, but continued to absently caress the silky hair, pushing his fingers through its darkness again and again. He hitched up on one elbow and leaned down to kiss Spock’s forehead where it normally lay hidden under his bangs. When he pulled back, he remained leaning on one elbow, suspended over his lover. “Do you think Bones knows about us?” Jim asked softly. “Is that what he was hinting at? Is that why he said you’d been looking tired?”

“The possibility had occurred to me,” Spock said thoughtfully, “but I do not believe that is the answer. The doctor has no evidence on which to base such a supposition. We have been most discreet. But it is possible that he senses a change, and is translating his feelings of puzzlement over that into concern for me.”

“I can’t hide the way I feel about you,” Kirk said with a small smile. “And if you’re looking tired, I guess it is my fault. We’ve been acting a little crazy, I think, like kids.” There was no regret in Kirk’s voice, perhaps a little pride.

“Even when I was a youth, I never acted like a human `kid’. This is my first opportunity. Do you intend to deny me?” Deliberately, Spock arched his eyebrow.

Kirk chuckled. “Deny you and I deny myself. And I don’t feel very self-sacrificing tonight.” He nudged his still erect cock against the side of Spock’s thigh. “What’s it to be?”

After another bout of lip and tongue sucking, Spock reversed his position, pausing to examine Jim’s penis so close to his lips, then adjusting his body for a better vantage point. His left hand slid over a full hip and settled over the softness of the buttocks. His fingers flexed, then straightened into a caress.

An amused voice sounded from the other end of the bed. “What are you trying to do, Spock, meld with my ass?”

Spock had not realized that his fingers had automatically curved into the meld position. He spoke truthfully, “There are times when I would like to do that.” He hitched himself up and planted a wet, sloppy kiss as close to the white flesh as possible. It landed more on the hip, but Spock didn’t care.

Jim laughed. He wriggled. “There have been times, my dear friend, when you have done that, although not exactly in the way the Vulcan Masters had in mind.”

“Indeed not. But not everyone, Jim, is immune to the desires of the flesh. Your flesh,” he squeezed the ample buttock, “especially.” Spock lay back down on his side, and reached for the rosy penis.

Before he could even move close enough to tongue it, he felt a cool hand release his organ and move up and around to caress his own buttocks.

“You have a nice ass too, Commander, even if there isn’t much to it.”

Spock lifted up on one elbow again to observe what his lover was doing. Jim returned his gaze, but continued his slow stroking.

“Since I have had nothing to do with the construction of my buttocks, I do not believe I can properly take credit for them, their shape, or appearance. Or texture,” he added hastily, when he saw the questioning look, and felt an especially sensual stroke. “I cannot take credit for any of my physical attributes. Such compliments are therefore illogical.”

Kirk sighed. “All right. Illogical....” his voice trailed off. Then, more brightly, “Then how about this?” His hand wandered to the small of Spock’s back, an erogenous zone in Vulcans that he could never leave alone. “You have a wonderful, brilliant mind. Trained, I might add, with a great deal of will power and application. I love it. On the bridge, and in bed. But, you have an even more fantastic soul.” His hand rubbed firmly, sending little thrills through Spock’s body, and forcing Spock to abandon the sight of his lover to lie back down on his side with a sigh.

Jim continued softly, “Even before the melds, I knew it. I knew that everything inside you would be glowing, like gold. But now, to see everything that you are so clearly....” His hand paused in its stroking. He swallowed audibly, then continued almost conversationally, “Have I told you lately that I love you, Commander?”

Gently nuzzling at Kirk’s genitals, Spock allowed his lips to curve into a small smile. “It depends on your definition of `lately’, Captain. It has been twenty hours and seventeen minutes since I last heard that phrase; in my opinion, far too long a time between occurrences.” Spock moved down in the bed a bit, pushed Kirk’s organ to one side with his nose, and deliberately swiped his tongue all the way from the base of the sturdy cock to its life-filled tip. He heard his lover gasp, and felt him jerk forward once.

Jim’s voice was a little unsteady. “I can’t exactly see myself whispering in your ear on the bridge, Spock, but I’ll do what I can to correct your complaint.”

Even though they were teasing one another, Spock could not help reassuring. “No complaints, Jim. Just, much happiness.” He tightened the grip he had on the penis, and felt a cool hand slide down and around to touch his own organ.

They lay like that for a full minute, neither of them moving to stimulate the other, just touching with firm grasps of possession, and breathing. Finally, Jim whispered, “Do you know what I love? Besides you?”

“Tell me.”

“Being here with you. Like this, or almost any other way.”

Until three months ago, no one had ever talked to Spock in this intimate, loving way. “I do not think you mean sexually, do you?”

Jim’s head moved in negation. Spock suppressed his reaction to the stimulation. He very much wanted to hear what his lover was about to say. “Here we are, end to end. My cock is in your hand, it’s probably three inches from your mouth. I know in just a little while we’re gonna suck each other off and I’ll come in your mouth. Which, by the way, is one of the more fantastic ways to come. But still, we’re lying here talking to one another, having a conversation. It feels so right, but it’s really unusual for me. I’ve never been one to have much to say during sex before.”

Spock considered. “And yet, we seem to talk a great deal, at all times, including during the act of love.”

“Uh-huh. And I like it. Let’s not stop.”

He moved, and Spock felt the moistness of lips upon the head of his penis. They contracted, and the suction created a sudden urgency for more physical sensation.

But before Spock turned to his enthusiastic participation in this mutual act of love, he murmured, “Stop? How could I ever stop anything with you?” Jim’s penis slid easily, naturally between his lips, into his mouth. Just as the man himself had slid into his quarters, his life, his soul. How was it possible? So much change. Spock settled down to giving his lover pleasure, and receiving it in return.

***** 

They arrived at the entrance to the restaurant, an upscale looking place with Argellian palm fronds waving on either side of the door, and a formally clad human maître d’. Before joining the small line in the outer room waiting to be seated, Kirk scanned the seated diners for their friend, but he was enthusiastically hailed first.

“Jim! Spock!”

Approaching them with a long stride and arm outstretched was Allen Stewart, late instructor in Astrophysics at the Starfleet Academy, now station chief for Tristar. He shook Kirk’s hand vigorously.

“Jim, you’re looking good. The _Enterprise_ must agree with you.”

“You’re looking fine yourself, Allen. How’d you manage to escape the Academy?”

The man threw his head back and laughed uninhibitedly, drawing the attention of everyone in the small anteroom, and a decided frown from the maître d’. But Stewart didn’t seem to notice. He was a little taller than Kirk, very broad of shoulder, and had shoulder-length iron grey hair. His generous moustache drooped, grey flecked, to either side of his wide mouth, and his bangs lay affectedly upon a wrinkled brow in a little curl. Everything about him was generous, his laugh, his smile, his booming voice, and he had always seemed out of place at the so-serious Academy. Now he said, “That’s a long story, Jim. But I’m glad I’m here, now.”

He turned to the silent member of their party, and with an unabashed grin, offered Spock the Vulcan salute.

“Live long and prosper, Spock.” Stewart didn’t bother to turn down the volume.

“Live long and prosper, Allen. I am pleased to see you.” Spock’s voice was considerably more subdued, but Kirk noticed that his friend was standing very much at his ease, and for those who knew how to interpret the signs, there was a noticeable warmth to his manner.

Stewart turned toward the dining room and gestured them forward. “One of the advantages of being in charge of this technological marvel. I’ve got the best table right over there.” They swept past the discomfited maître d’.

They approached the table to be greeted by a woman already seated there. She looked up at Stewart with a smile. He bowed grandly towards her, and said, “Gentlemen, may I introduce Diana Featherstone, my frequent companion in crime?” Then, changing his voice to the merely conversational, he said, “Di wouldn’t let me come to Alfredo’s without inviting her, too. It’s her favorite.”

Kirk inclined his head, murmuring “Ma’am” and examining her. Long dark hair, sparkling blue eyes, a little on the skinny side, and an open expression of composed friendliness on her face. An interesting, intelligent-looking woman in her mid-thirties. Nice.

“Captain Kirk, Commander Spock, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Allen was so pleased when he heard you were coming our way.” Her voice was melodious and cultured.

Stewart gestured them all to be seated and waved towards the hard copy menus already placed on the table. He picked one up in a big hand without opening it and said, “That’s right. I knew you two were serving together these days, but I didn’t think there would ever be much chance of the _Enterprise_ stopping here. Your environmental breakdown was my good fortune. Are my engineers taking good care of you, Jim?”

Kirk nodded. “We’re already half finished, Allen. Should be ready to warp out in....” He paused and looked at Spock expectantly.

“Fourteen hours. It is impossible to estimate more exactly, given the complexity of the components involved.”

Stewart looked at Kirk with another grin. “He hasn’t changed much, has he? But I forgot. You two didn’t know one another at Starfleet Academy, did you?”

“No,” Kirk said easily. “Spock graduated the year I was admitted. And you know that plebes don’t have a lot to do with the upperclassmen, except for hazing.” He looked at Spock with undisguised affection. “And Spock didn’t go in for any of that.”

Spock was sitting back in his chair with his arms folded. “Indeed. The traditional harassment of Academy recruits has always seemed a most illogical endeavor to me. A human tradition which I was pleased to avoid.”

“I remember.” Stewart planted both elbows firmly on the white linen table cloth, and the vase in the center of the table shook from the impact. Diana reached out and removed it from further danger, meeting Kirk’s amused eyes as she did so. Stewart didn’t even notice. “You were such a serious student, Spock, my very best ever. I always knew you’d be a success in Starfleet.”

His attention shifted to Kirk. “And you, Jim, so intense, and struggling through every single lecture. Would you believe, Diana, that in the first few weeks of class, I was afraid I would have to flunk the fair haired boy of the Academy?”

“Not so!” Kirk protested. He turned to the woman. “But he made me work hard for every grade. Astrophysics was never my strong point. That’s why I keep Spock around. He’s my Science Officer too, you know.”

The waiter arrived and poured wine into everyone’s glass, apparently preordered by Stewart. Unconcerned, he continued the conversation. “Yeah, I’d heard that you were pulling double duty, Spock. Doesn’t this slave driver of a captain ever let you rest?”

The two _Enterprise_ officers glanced at one another, Kirk working hard to restrain the smile that threatened to spread over his face. Sometimes it was Spock who wouldn’t let him rest, but neither of them had been getting as much sleep as they used to.

Spock was more firmly in control of his expression than Kirk was, but he allowed his eyes to crinkle just a bit so that his lover would see that he too shared his amusement. He stepped smoothly into the small silence that had developed. “I can assure you, Allen, I am receiving as much rest as I... desire.”

To prevent himself from laughing at Spock’s unexpected response, Kirk quickly turned to the woman seated next to him. “Ms. Featherstone. By any chance one of the Lunar Featherstones?” It was a conversational gambit. There must be thousands of Featherstones around, and very few of them actually related to the famous couple who had helped colonize the Earth’s moon.

“Well, yes, actually. My many-great grandparents were Jennifer and Trey Featherstone.” It was said with a small, deprecating smile.

“And you should see her collection from the first colony!” Stewart enthusiastically supplied. “She’s got some original log tapes, one of Trey’s space suit helmets, all sorts of photographs. Diana’s made a real study of it.”

“Really?” Kirk’s excited and sudden interest was unmistakable.

She looked apologetic. “I know some people think it should be in a museum, but the material I have has been in my family for generations. We look on it as a collection of heirlooms. My brother has a part of the collection, but I keep most of it here. I’m sort of an amateur historian.”

“Captain Kirk is also interested in history, especially, I believe, in that period of Earth’s colonizing effort.” Spock looked affectionately at Kirk’s fascinated expression.

“That’s right,” Stewart’s hand smacked against the table. “You took a minor at the Academy in history, didn’t you?”

Kirk leaned towards the woman. “Ms. Featherstone, is there anything in the tapes about that first expedition to the crater? The one where they had the accident?”

“Please, call me Diana, Captain. And yes, that’s one of the longest log entries of all. There’s a lot there that isn’t published, but I’m not sure how valuable the information is, except to the family.”

“Call me Jim. I’ve puzzled over that incident for years. Why didn’t they turn back at the first sign of trouble?”

Diana sighed, then smiled at Kirk. “For a reason I am sure you would identify with yourself, Jim, since you are one of the Federation’s explorers of new worlds. Grandfather Trey was determined to map out as much of the area as possible, to make it safe for the colony as soon as he could, and Grandmother Jen was a fanatic about new discoveries. They didn’t turn back because they didn’t want to. I don’t think it even occurred to them. Of course, they regretted it later.”

“They weren’t as well equipped as they should have been. The Velashovski rover would have been a much better choice.”

A quick nod of the dark head. “You’re right. Have you ever thought....”

It was a meeting of true minds. Kirk had been fascinated with the subject for years and he couldn’t resist the lure. With only one apologetic look at Spock and Stewart, he plunged into an enthusiastic conversation with Diana.

Over the talk of craters and lunar ore sampling, Stewart said to Spock, “I’d forgotten how enthusiastic he was. Always like this?”

“Frequently.” Spock looked at the fair head bent forward towards the darker one, and firmly suppressed the unworthy thoughts which leapt to his mind. He had seen Jim’s enthusiasms engaged before. But they were simply involved in an intellectual discussion. And he was pleased that his friend had found another devotee of his planet’s heritage.

Spock looked calmly at Stewart and reached for his wine glass. “I am interested in how you came to be working for the Tristar Consortium,” he said politely. “When did you leave the Academy?”

It was difficult to conduct a conversation with Stewart, when he wanted to eavesdrop on the spirited conversation taking place between Jim and Ms. Featherstone, but it was not impossible. He commiserated with the station head over the recent troubles experienced by the Tristar company, extracted information on the circumstances leading to his departure from Starfleet, and watched Jim out of the corner of his eye.

The two of them were speaking together like true zealots. The need to peruse the menu and make choices for the Andorian waiter standing patiently by was treated as an unwelcome interruption. As soon as she left Kirk was using his napkin to make a topographical map of the lunar terrain on the table.

“I’ve been to the first settlement museum,” he said quickly, the staccato beat of his voice betraying his intensity. “When I was just a kid. I took the outside tour, too. The route went through these mountains here, then over this plain. Then it was down the ravine....” He paused, having run out of napkin. “May I?” he asked with a lopsided grin into Diana’s face, and reached into her lap to pluck the white linen cloth to use for his map. It quickly settled into the contours of lunar ravine. “Now, I always thought....”

Spock’s hand had already been halfway to his own cloth, to offer Jim his napkin, but apparently it had been unnecessary. Firmly, Spock told himself that Jim’s action had been inconsequential, not an action which was a hint of intimate intentions as it might have been if Jim had met Ms. Featherstone during a shore leave several months ago. The captain was merely single-mindedly pursuing a subject that gave him great pleasure. Even if he was being somewhat rude to Stewart, not to mention Spock himself, in the process.

After that, every “Jim” and every “Diana” could not help but explode in Spock’s ear, despite his best efforts to tune out the conversation. It didn’t help that Allen occasionally watched the two with undisguised amusement, and once interrupted his and Spock’s discussion of Academy politics to point out to him with pride how captivating Diana was.

It wasn’t until they were halfway through their entrees that Kirk apparently realized that he had come to the restaurant to converse with Stewart, and he turned his attention back to his former instructor. “Well, Allen, what have you been doing with yourself? One thing I know for sure, you’ve found a fascinating companion.” Kirk looked over at Diana with a smile; Spock could not help but note, with a pang he tried to ignore, his lover’s use of his own favorite word.

Stewart reached across the table to take Diana’s hand. Spock watched as their fingers curled about each other. The woman’s hand was very fair, the fingers long. Her nails had been painted a deep red. Stewart had the wide, blunt fingers that matched the rest of his body, and personality. And yet, the two dissimilar sets of digits curled about one another....

Stewart was speaking. “Yes,” he said with a chuckle. “Diana is quite a wonder, isn’t she? Who would have thought that an old codger like me could keep up with a young lady as special as she is, eh?”

The slender fingers squeezed the big hand, then released. For the first time that evening, Diana laughed, and Spock thought that if she had laughed with Jim that way, he would have.... He could not think of what he would have done. A most unfamiliar, and uncomfortable depression began to settle on his thoughts. His throat suddenly felt scratchy and he suppressed a need to cough.

After that, Kirk happily spoke with Stewart, and repeated all the questions Spock had already asked, so that Spock listened to Stewart’s recent life history once again. It was... annoying. If Kirk noticed Spock’s silence, there was no indication of it, for he retained the same enthusiastic manner he had been projecting all this long evening.

Over coffee and dessert, Stewart sat back in his chair. It squeaked obviously, he ignored it, and Kirk and Ms. Featherstone shared an amused glance that Spock unhappily noted. Under other circumstances, at another time, the first officer of the _Enterprise_ would have concluded that his captain was flirting. But, that was not possible now....

“So, I suppose you two will be shipping out tomorrow, and it will be a long time before I see you again.”

“`Fraid so, Allen.” Kirk spoke lightly. “But I’m glad we had a chance to see you tonight. Thanks for the invitation.”

The big man waved his hand. “No problem. If you come back this way again, look us up.” He jerked a thumb in Spock’s direction. “And take care of this fellow, will ya? Best student I ever had. Pretty nice guy, once you get to know him.”

Spock turned in his chair to face Stewart, surprised and somewhat embarrassed at the unexpected compliment. He had been so intent on what was transpiring between Ms. Featherstone and Jim, he had not realized Stewart was actually taking pleasure from his company.

Kirk cleared his throat. “I always try to take care of him, Allen. And he takes care of me. That’s what a command team does.”

Soft words. A command team? What kind of team, in truth, were they?

Stewart insisted on using his credit chip to pay for the meal, and they all rose to stand together in the anteroom before parting.

Ms. Featherstone extended her hand to Spock. “It’s been so nice meeting you, Commander. I hope to see you again someday.” He gingerly touched just the tips of her fingers, and bowed his head.

She turned to Kirk with the same friendly extension of her hand. “And I hope to be able to discuss more about exploration with you some day, Jim. Maybe you’ll have the time to review my collection if you ever come this way again.”

Kirk took her hand in his, and bowed gallantly over it. Spock waited for him to kiss the slender fingers, but at least he was spared that unseemly and idiotic gesture from Earth’s past. They all parted at the doorway, and Kirk briskly turned to the beam up area.

*****

The duty officer on the bridge reported that all was quiet, and a check-in with Scott showed that repairs were progressing nicely.

“Good,” Kirk said as he flicked off the intercom on the transporter room console. “Let’s hit the sack. I’m tired.”

They proceeded through the corridors to Officers’ territory, where they each entered their separate quarters. Spock hadn’t even completed checking his terminal for messages before the captain had entered through the common bathroom.

As was his habit, he stretched once before reaching to pull off his tunic. “Allen looked great, didn’t he? I can’t believe that he finally escaped the Academy. He seems to be a lot happier with Tristar than teaching a bunch of cadets.”

“Indeed,” Spock said quietly. “Allen appears to be most satisfied with his life.” He watched while the smooth chest was revealed, and the tunic tossed in through the bathroom door in the direction of the recycler.

“I’m glad he’s happy.” Kirk had moved to the bed and was quickly pulling off his boots and socks. The socks shot through the air and through the doorway. He stood and unfastened his pants, bent to skim out of them, standing again clad only in his briefs. “And I can’t believe that I actually met a member of the Featherstone family. She’s right, all that material really belongs in a museum.” He walked towards the bathroom, crumpled pants in hand.

Spock stayed where he was, standing by his desk. He heard the sounds of Kirk using the facilities, then moved to stand within the open bathroom doorway. Kirk was in front of the sink, enthusiastically brushing his teeth.

“You enjoyed a most animated conversation with Ms. Featherstone.”

“Yeah, wasn’t it great?” Kirk spoke around the lather in his mouth, then rinsed. “I never knew about the friction between Jennifer Featherstone and Monte Collmer. But it explains a lot.” He walked past Spock and headed for the bed. He was naked; they always slept together naked. He looked back at Spock, who was fully clothed, still standing in the bathroom doorway. Jim pulled the bedspread and blankets down. “You coming to bed?” He slid under the covers.

Spock sighed, he hoped inaudibly. It was an expression of his emotions which he occasionally had allowed himself, before the torrent which had beset him once he and Jim.... “Yes, Jim, I am coming to bed.” He turned towards the bathroom and deliberately pressed the button that closed the door.

He thought as he absently performed cleansing routines. Jim had been happily talking about their evening with Allen and Ms. Featherstone. Jim was assuming that, like other nights when duty did not separate them, they would sleep together in the same bed. There was no indication of guilt or uneasiness in Jim’s manner. Therefore, Spock’s thoughts and reactions were not only incorrect, but unworthy of the love and trust which his captain had given to him. The unfamiliar aching and the jumbled thoughts which had taken possession of him for the past one hour and twenty-seven minutes must be banished.

Spock was unsure that he was capable of such a task, given his current state of mind. But regardless of his mental state, he did require sleep. He pushed the button that would release the door.

The lights had already dimmed to a soft glow when Spock emerged from the bathroom. Jim had once tenderly said he liked looking at Spock while he slept, as well as when they made love, and so they habitually slept now with light enough to see. Spock was not sure that he wanted to look at Jim now, but he would not dim the lights. He slid into the bed next to his captain.

They lay in silence for a minute. Jim turned over onto his side and placed a cool hand against Spock’s chest. His fingers threaded through the dark chest hair. “Are you just interested in sleep tonight?” he asked softly.

Spock grasped the stroking hand and placed it by Kirk’s side. If Jim had simply gone to sleep, Spock would not have mentioned a thing. He told himself that. But how could Jim want to make love now? Spock felt mightily betrayed, and a sudden surge of anger possessed him. He would not be used. “I do not desire to engage in physical relations with you at this time.” His voice was as firm and dispassionate as he had wanted it to be. He was in control.

A small silence. Would Jim believe his response or pursue the subject? It was possible that Jim would think him genuinely tired. And yet, the thought of the silence continuing was not... acceptable.

Kirk shifted, bringing his hand up again, this time to lie passively on Spock’s upper arm. “What’s wrong?” he asked softly.

The cool fingers curving against his biceps had always felt comforting before. Contact with Jim had always been desirable. But now it reminded Spock of other fingers curving....

Spock shrugged the fingers off with a shake of his shoulders. “There is nothing wrong,” he said perversely, and was aware that some of his anger had leached into his response.

“Yes, there is.” His lover’s tone was rising.

Spock wanted to turn over on his side and accuse Jim to his face. But if he did, those hazel eyes would be looking at him, and Spock was unsure of what his reaction would be to that personal contact. The control he had felt just a few moments ago was slipping, and he realized that he was about to engage in the human pastime called `an argument’. It was not a pleasant thought.

Spock remained on his back, staring at the ceiling. “I have no desire to engage in sexual relations with you when you have been aroused by another.”

“What!?” Jim bolted upright in bed and turned hard eyes toward Spock. “You mean, Diana Featherstone?”

“Affirmative.” Spock spoke through tight lips and looked at Kirk accusingly.

Spock’s response seemed to hang in the air between them. Kirk stayed absolutely still and stared at him for what seemed like a long time. Then he let out a long sigh, said, “Oh, shit,” and rolled back down onto the bed.

The movement released Spock from his own position, and now he rolled over onto his side to face his lover. “Do you deny it?”

Jim’s eyes flicked at him for just a moment, then settled back on the ceiling. His hand came up to his face, and fingers rubbed against the bridge of his nose. “Spock... give me a minute here. This is obviously something we’ve got to talk about. Let me think for a minute.”

Spock was silent. Forty-six seconds passed. His bedmate’s respiration rate increased during that time, and his hand did not stray from its position against his forehead, although his eyes closed for eleven seconds. Spock allowed his gaze to move downward. Jim was most definitely not aroused.

Sixty seconds had passed. “I am waiting for you to speak, although I do not know what you could say to me.” How could Jim deny what was so obvious?

The hand dropped. “All right.” Kirk turned over to face him, keeping a distance between their two bodies, his carefully controlled movements an indication of his tense state of mind. He looked Spock full in the face. “You’re really angry, aren’t you?”

“I believe that I have cause to be.”

“You think that I was sexually stimulated by Diana Featherstone, turned on, and that I’m turning to you just as a means of relief. Right?”

The words put so baldly stung, and sounded ugly. But Jim would know that he would not appreciate a more subtle means of phrasing. Spock hardened his voice. “That is correct.”

“Well, in a way you’re right, and in another, more important way, you’re wrong. Are you willing to talk about it, or are you going to close up on me?” It was challenge, an accusation left over from other times when Spock had become inaccessible for weeks. But that had been before they had become lovers.

Spock looked at his bedmate coldly. “I have no desire to `close up’ on you. An explanation of your behavior would be welcome, although not truly necessary. Perhaps all that needs to be said is that I will not tolerate such behavior from you in the future.” And he turned over onto his other side, his back to Kirk.

“Tolerate, hell!” Kirk said with a snarl, and he grabbed Spock’s shoulder to roll him back. He was on his knees now, looking down in anger at Spock. “You have no right to dictate anything to me, Mister! And I haven’t given you anything to tolerate yet!”

Spock half started up in the bed. Jim’s hand was still gripping his shoulder tightly. “You do not consider your flirtatious behavior with Ms. Featherstone reprehensible?” he hurled at Kirk. “Did you truly believe I would be the receptacle for your lust which was directed at another?”

“Goddammit, Spock, I didn’t want to fuck Diana! I want to fuck you!”

Spock’s eyes narrowed. “Can you truly say that, Captain? The least I expect from you is honesty.”

All the tension seemed to run out of Kirk’s body in a rush, and he slumped back down onto the bed. He ran a hand over his face in frustration. “Honesty? Spock, sometimes honesty is very complicated. I’ll try to give it to you. Will you listen?”

Spock sat up, stiff-backed, and folded his arms across his chest. “Yes.”

“All right.” A deep breath. “You say that I was flirting with Diana. Well, maybe you’re right, I don’t know. It would be stupid for me to deny that I found her to be a very attractive woman. Not exactly my type, but we had a lot in common.”

“You conversed with her in a most animated manner, and ignored both Allen and myself for half the evening.” Even to Spock’s ears, the accusation sounded petty.

“Yes, well, I guess I did get carried away. But that’s not the point. The point is that under other circumstances, I might have thought about taking Diana to bed. But, I didn’t. For one thing, she obviously has a thing going with Allen, and I don’t horn in on friends. But more importantly, I’m committed to you now. If I sleep with anybody these days, I sleep with you.”

“But your conduct was... flirtatious. Sexual in nature.” Spock wanted to accept everything Jim was saying. And yet the thought of lying in his lover’s arms while Jim thought of another, hurt....

Jim sighed. “Yes. God, Spock, what do you expect me to do, turn it off completely? I can’t do that. I can’t control my responses the way you do, and still be myself. I don’t want to. I’m still a human male filled with hormones, and conditioned to respond to a pretty woman who also happens to share a great interest of mine. I’ve been responding to women for a long time. I’ve only been sleeping with you for three months.”

This was even more distasteful. “Then you are saying you are subject to your body’s reactions and cannot be held accountable --”

Kirk interrupted him vehemently. “No! And you know that’s not what I meant. I meant sometimes my body’s sexual responses are going to be turned on without my conscious thought. Like tonight. Getting all tangled up with a pretty woman in a really stimulating conversation. But I have a choice as to where to direct that sexual response. And I choose to direct that response toward you.”

Kirk took a deep breath, obviously to compose himself. “I hate this, you know,” he said conversationally, and leaned back up against the headboard. “You’re feeling insecure, and jealous, and there’s no reason for it. None at all. I didn’t act improperly with Diana, I wasn’t thinking of her when I reached for you, and I resent your assumption that I was.”

Silence between them. Spock still felt angry, still felt betrayed on some soul-deep elemental level, but he also believed all that Jim had said. It produced a conflict he could not immediately resolve. Jim would not lie to him about such a thing....

“In a way,” Jim said quietly, “this should prove to you how I feel about you. When I realized I was getting horny, I didn’t want to get into her pants, even if talking with her was the reason for it. I wanted to get into yours.”

Spock winced. His lover could occasionally be so crude. “Do you expect me to be grateful?”

“No, Spock, I don’t.” Kirk had a tone of exaggerated patience which Spock had heard before. The captain could maintain it for only a limited time before he erupted into an emotional tirade. “I expect you to understand my responses as natural, normal human male responses. There are times when sex is a wonderful, emotional act filled with love, and we’ve had plenty of those times. Then there are times when it’s pretty basic, mainly a physical release. I know that your Vulcan sexuality doesn’t work that way, but mine does, and you’ve got to learn to accept it. You take me for what I am, Spock, or you don’t take me at all.”

The words opened a door between them for the first time—the possibility that what they currently shared would not last. Spock swallowed hard. “That is not the issue at hand, Jim.”

“Then what do you want? What else do you want me to say?”

There could be no profit in continuing this conversation. There was too much he wished to consider, and currently, his emotional response was inhibiting clear thought. “Let us sleep,” Spock said decisively. “If there is the need, we can speak of this later.”

“Right. That’s fine with me. Let’s just forget the whole thing,” Jim said through clenched teeth which clearly showed the irritation he was trying to hide. He slid down onto the bed on his back and pulled the blankets haphazardly over his body. “Good night.”

Spock didn’t bother to respond.

They lay in silence, each clearly hearing the breathing of the other. It was the first time they had had such a disagreement within their new personal relationship. Spock felt distinctly uncomfortable, and acutely aware of Jim’s rigid body close to his. The bed was so narrow it was almost impossible to sleep comfortably as they were, lying side by side on their backs, their bodies not touching. Normally, he and Jim slept wrapped up in one another; one of Spock’s great comforts had been awakening in loving arms. Now, it seemed illogical to continue this sleeping arrangement if they were not to engage in intimate relations. Yet Spock did not want to move....

Jim was breathing deeply. If Spock had turned his head to look, he felt sure that his captain’s eyes would be open, staring at the ceiling as his own were. Were his fingers clenched as well? Last night, those fingers had been clenched elsewhere, around his erect penis, until they had moved down to hold his testicles as he ejaculated into Jim’s mouth....

Spock felt the distinct stirrings of desire. His penis was erecting swiftly, already becoming uncomfortable against the confining blankets. He shifted minutely to relieve the pressure. This was... ridiculous. To have had such an unfortunate conversation, to still be angry with him for his thoughtless behavior, and yet to be aroused by his presence....

“Oh, great,” Jim said wryly. Spock could hear the reluctant smile that went with the words. “Now you’re the one who wants it.”

It was useless to deny it. The evidence was apparent with a glance. “It is of no consequence,” Spock said stiffly.

“Your body’s telling you something different, Spock. And I think it has a lot to do with what we’ve been talking about.” Kirk sat up in the bed and turned to look down at Spock. “Think about what you’re feeling right now. You’re probably still angry with me, my guess is a little confused about all that’s happened, not feeling your normal loving and sexy self. But it looks like Vulcan sexuality,” Kirk deliberately looked down at the definite lump under the blankets, “doesn’t work as differently from mine as I thought. You’re angry at me, but your body wants to make love. But more as an act of claiming, almost aggression. Not very logical, is it?” He looked at Spock expectantly.

Spock drew the blankets tighter under his chin, although he knew it was a useless gesture. He still felt naked under Kirk’s gaze. “It is true that I have not resolved my emotions about the events of this night, but it would not be appropriate for us to --”

Kirk placed one placating hand on Spock’s cloth covered knee. “Who’s to say what’s appropriate or not? Sometimes sexuality gets disconnected from all the fine emotions that authors write about. That’s okay. If I turn to you when I’ve been turned on by somebody else, we have the bedrock of love beneath us to support us. You should understand. And if you want to fuck me even though you’re angry, and want to take out a little frustration, well, I understand that too.”

Spock looked at Kirk, who stared back at him with guileless eyes; he was speaking in all sincerity. Spock did not appreciate the position he was in. The hand so casually upon his knee was contributing to his arousal so that now his penis was rock hard, and he had to consciously suppress the desire to thrust into something, anything. He wondered if Jim were aware of the effect that small physical contact had on him.

And Jim was lecturing. Although Spock knew that every word had been offered in sincerity and love, it rankled more than just a little bit to have his own inner motives and feelings dissected so expertly. Regardless of the fact that Jim was correct in his analysis, did he need to sound so didactic? Spock was not a child.

He was an adult. An adult male with physical needs. And strengths. He could feel the strengths thrumming now, the blood rushing through his erection, the Vulcan sinews and muscles that granted him physical superiority over his mostly human shipmates. Over Jim.

Spock’s eyes narrowed. His gaze slowly traveled over Jim’s body, taking in the broadness of shoulder, the smoothness of chest, the tickling beginnings of a line of hair just under the navel. A predatory gaze, which in all his adult life he had never allowed himself, and which he had never believed he would direct at Jim. But there were apparently still things to learn about himself....

He remembered how Jim’s buttocks had felt under his hands last night.

Kirk noticed the gaze. He shifted, unafraid beneath the changed intensity of Spock’s examination. He deliberately turned one shoulder, not to conceal, but to reveal. And his very artlessness inflamed Spock even more. His lover was playing a game now, teasing him, toying with him, and Spock was very sure he did not want to lose any game with Jim tonight.

Spock saw his lover’s breaths quicken, and felt his own heart begin to pound.

Jim’s back was now turned completely to him, as he sat on the bed, and the lush beginnings of a rounded ass tantalized as the crack disappeared into the bedclothes. He hitched up a bit, then down, grinding his seat provocatively. Spock put out one suddenly very certain hand and laid it flat against the small of Jim’s back.

“You want it,” Jim whispered, his head bowed down into his chest. “I want it. Why not?”

Spock stroked the hand against the silkiness of pale skin. He made each stroke long, pushed hard, moved slowly, so that there could be no mistaking his intention. If this had been a Vulcan he was touching, it would have been a wildly stimulating and erotic gesture, rubbing against that special area only Vulcans had.... He paused over the group of hairs which grew just above the beginnings of Jim’s crack, and pulled at them with his fingers.

“Yes,” Spock breathed, “I know what I want.”

He sat up in bed and grabbed Kirk’s face between both hands. He kissed him hard and plunged into his mouth when it opened willingly beneath his probing tongue. Jim made little noises in the back of his throat, and his hands went up to clutch convulsively at Spock’s shoulders. He kissed Spock back as avidly as Spock was kissing him.

Kirk’s fingers on his shoulder tightened, then his hands slipped over and around Spock’s back in a crushing hug. It pressed their lips bruisingly together. Now Spock could feel the smooth chest against his own, the hairless perfection heaving against his own breathlessness, could feel the pounding of his lover’s heart as it accelerated because of his touch, his kiss, his desire....

But the contact between them was not enough, not nearly enough. Spock’s body was crying out for stimulation, for completion in the cool, eager, exasperating flesh that was his captain, his friend, his lover. “Roll over,” he gasped, and his hands were on Jim’s arms, pushing him away, turning him onto his stomach on the bed. Kirk went willingly, flattening himself on the mattress and thrusting down once, twice....

“No!” Spock turned from reaching for the lubricant, and grabbed for Jim’s hips, holding him still with the Vulcan strength he had regulated from the day he had left his father’s home, then pulled him up onto his knees. “Do not stimulate yourself.” It was suddenly very important that he be the one to reach completion first.

Jim was holding very still, up on his hands and knees upon the bed with Spock kneeling behind him. Spock ran his hand from the surface of the mattress, up along the length of the inner thigh, pushing as he did, so that the legs parted. Dangling testicles were revealed, and a glimpse of a yearning penis standing stiffly out from his body.

But it was the tiny bud within the dark curved line that called to him. Without hesitation he parted the buttocks and ran his finger down along the crevice until it reached the entrance to Jim’s body.

The human quivered with the touch and pushed back just the smallest bit. The response was enough to rob Spock of whatever lingering discretion he had retained. He groped for the tube of lubricant with his other hand, and squirted a line of cream where his fingers hovered.

“I want to fuck you!” he said intensely, some part of him surprised at the vulgarity issuing from his lips. But it was true. Every cell of his body seemed alive, trembling, aching for sensation, narrowing in on the sight of the warm enclosure before him. He wanted so much to fuck Jim.... His finger swiped against the cream, and plunged into the hole.

“Oh, God,” Jim said wildly, and Spock shifted so that he could see how his lover was responding to this most intimate of touches.

Jim’s head was thrown back, his eyes were closed, his mouth open as he gasped for air. His hair was disarrayed, little clumps falling down across his forehead. Spock hurriedly withdrew his finger, felt for more cream, then pushed two fingers inside the anal canal.

Enough. If he were to avoid damaging his lover he would have to lubricate his own penis as well, but it seemed very important to maintain the contact of his fingers within Jim. He looked at them with fascination as they disappeared inside the fragile flesh, pulled them out an inch and pushed them in again, felt a flash of sheer eroticism thrill through his body at the way he was within his lover’s body so intimately. An image of how the two of them must look flashed through his mind, and Spock shivered.

He flexed the fingers, and felt them slide along the smooth anal wall, felt as well as heard the low moan that Jim emitted. He had lubricated Jim before, with love and soft words, even eagerness and gasps, but never like this, with strength running down his arms and through his fingers, his strength flexing inside of Jim and making him moan....

Enough. Without removing his fingers, Spock reached for the tube and squirted the lubricant along his penis, then perfunctorily spread it about with the one hand. He maneuvered until he was kneeling between Jim’s legs, their bodies close, placing his penis along the palm of the hand that was embedded deep within his maddening, exasperating mate. Spock pushed, and as the tip of his cock slid into the surrounding darkness, only then did he slowly withdraw his fingers. There had not been a moment when some part of him had not possessed his lover.

The encasing warmth was enflaming. Spock had not even inserted half of his length before Jim clenched around him, sending lines of utter delight through his penis. “Uhhhh,” Spock strained, and closed his eyes as sensation seared his body. Jim clenched again, and Spock fell forward onto his lover’s back.

But even the clenching would not deter him from complete penetration. Spock flexed his hips, pushing forward relentlessly, and felt the touch of flesh meet the root of his penis. He was in. All the way. Inside Jim. His organ jerked and pushed against the smooth walls at the thought.

Spock pulled back onto his knees and deliberately looked down at where his penis disappeared. He had penetrated Jim before, although not often. But never with his captain on his hands and knees before him, head bowed down low and hidden. Always before he had wanted to see Jim’s face, as Jim had wanted to see his during the act, and so they had always lain on their backs to be taken.

But this was new. He couldn’t see Jim’s face in this position, and it was totally unnecessary for him to do so. He was the one in control, and he gave a small thrust to prove it. He watched with fascination as Jim’s body rocked beneath him as a result.

The movement sent a wave of sexual feeling through him, physical delight that he had to have again. He began to thrust into his lover, pulling out and pushing in, short little jabs, long ecstatic slides. So good. So good. He wanted to say something to Jim, to tell him how good his body felt, to tell him the absolute thrill of possession that he felt as the cooler body moved beneath him.

But Spock couldn’t speak. For once his brain refused to obey his commands and no words formed through the incoherent pleasure that possessed him instead. So he lay down upon the smooth back before him and pressed his chest and stomach against its coolness, wrapped his arms around this body that was giving him so much pleasure, pushed in and out, again and again....

His stomach moved against the small of Jim’s back with every inward thrust, with every slow withdrawal. Spock pushed his stomach muscles out to create more friction. If Jim had been doing this to him, stimulating that peculiarly Vulcan area of sexual sensitivity with the pressing, dominating motion of his body, it would feel so good. To have Jim within him, leaning over him, Jim’s cock embedded all the way into him....

The inner vision completed him. Spock felt his testicles tighten, began to thrust frantically inside the warmth, felt the indescribable tingling start to spiral out from his body, through his penis aflame with sensation, heard from very far away a voice proclaiming, “Jim! Jim!”, shuddered, and with a final frantic thrust inside, came with a groan.

It took a few moments for Spock to return to reality. When he did he realized he was still deeply embedded in his partner, and that he barely had the strength to even continue lying spinelessly over Jim’s back. He pulled back slowly, hearing his penis emerge with a wet sound and a final smack, and fell onto his back on the bed.

When he finally had the strength to open his eyes, Jim was still in the same position Spock had left him, but staring down at him with glittering bright eyes, his body tense, almost quivering. What was in essence a pose of great submission was suddenly transformed. Jim almost vibrated with energy, with a coiled kind of strength, and all of it was being directed through his eyes as he looked enigmatically down at Spock. Spock suddenly thought of a desert le-matya, staring down at its prey. He shivered. Kirk licked his lips.

Spock realized that he had indulged in an incredibly selfish act. He had not given a single thought to Jim, or to his pleasure. He had single-mindedly followed the sensations of his own body, become lost in a private orgy of sexuality, and had used his lover as... `a receptacle for his lust’. Spock swallowed hard. He looked up into glittering eyes, and saw himself, Jim, and most especially their conversation about Diana Featherstone, from a whole new perspective.

Spock’s eyes traveled across the suppressed strength of Kirk’s body, and saw the penis standing stiffly. It pointed towards him accusingly, screaming with shiny-headed need of his neglect and selfishness. But Spock did not dare reach out to touch it. The masterful stranger next to him, and his penetrating gaze, did not invite such familiarity. He waited.

When the silence between them had lengthened, when it had taken on a palpable presence which made every breath they took sound loud, only then did Kirk move. He rose onto his knees, and, stiffly, lifted each of his legs over Spock’s exhausted form. He pushed Spock’s legs roughly apart to kneel between them, towering over a suddenly apprehensive Vulcan, not saying a word despite his obvious desperate intensity. Spock would not blame Jim for being very angry. Would he now grab Spock’s legs and place them over his shoulders and plunge into Spock the way Spock had plunged heedlessly into him?

A silky smooth voice. A whisper. “Watch me.”

Spock had no choice. Fascinated with this new person in the body of the man he knew, he watched.

Kirk’s strong hand went down to circle round the base of his bursting penis. It tightened, released, tightened, moved slowly all the way up the column to the mushroom head, paused there as strong fingers knowingly caressed round and round, then back down to the base. Sure caresses. Knowing caresses of great familiarity. Jim was touching his body the way he knew gave him the greatest pleasure. It could not be duplicated. Fascinated, Spock watched.

Again Kirk stroked upwards. Again. Each stroke a little faster than before.

Spock spared a glance at his lover’s face. The eyes were slightly glazed, but they had apparently never left his own. Jim looked at him deeply, willing him to see the pleasure that flashed across his face with every touch of his own hand. He made no effort to hide. Spock’s lover whispered, “It feels good.”

There was no need to reply. Spock turned his gaze back to where Jim’s hand was moving.

The strokes were becoming shorter, firmer, and the strong thumb was rapidly caressing over the cock’s head with every upward movement. The muscles in Jim’s legs tensed as he shifted on the bed, pushing Spock’s spread out legs even wider. His other hand came off his tensed thigh, and cradled his own drawn-up balls. He pushed them up once, twice, roughly enough to make Spock wince at the treatment, but he knew what would give his own body pleasure.

The strokes on the enflamed penis were coming in a flurry now, and Jim was rocking forward just a bit, and grunting with little animal-like sounds coming from deep in the back of his throat. Again Spock looked up into his eyes, and again he realized his lover had been looking at him the entire time.

“Watch me,” Jim mouthed, but no sounds came from his lips. His head was suddenly thrown back, his lips tightened, and Spock quickly looked down just in time to see the seed come bursting from the penis held within a clenched human fist.

One strong spurt, two, a jerk of the hand, and three, four, each shower of white liquid coming down to land wetly on Spock’s chest, his stomach, and finally, with a last shake that directed his penis straight down, onto Spock’s own depleted genitals.

They stayed like that for long moments. Spock felt the warmth of the liquid drops upon his body start to chill. There was a pool of the semen gathered on his chest, and in the subdued light, it glistened. The way Jim’s eyes had glistened. Spock looked up at his lover. Jim’s eyes were subdued, a trifle wary, but regarding him steadily.

Slowly, knowing that every move he made was being watched, Spock brought one hand up to his chest, and dipped a long finger into the shininess. It was thick and clung to his chest hair as he swirled it all about. Then, deliberately, he scooped some of the substance onto his finger, and brought it up to his mouth to taste.

An acquired taste, Jim’s semen. Bitter, salty, not aesthetically pleasing in and of itself. But invested with the love they had shared for the past three months, and the possessing shower he had just experienced... Jim’s semen was ambrosia.

Spock flicked out his tongue and licked each tiny droplet until his finger was clean.

Only then did he look back up at Jim. All the tension had disappeared from the strong body, and there was a little smile quirking the corners of Jim’s so attractive mouth. He looked satisfied, he looked handsome, he looked like the man whom Spock had grown to love. The man who possessed the Vulcan heart he hadn’t known he had. And... other things as well.

There were other large droplets of semen cooling on his stomach, and sprinkling across his hips. But the wetness on his flaccid penis was the coolness most obvious to him. Spock reached down again, all the way to his member that had been inside his lover, and felt the liquid slide onto his finger. He reached up with it, extending his arm to Jim in silent offering.

Jim’s eyes widened, but his smile grew until it was warm, genuine, obvious. His pink tongue appeared, and lapped at Spock’s finger. “I love you,” he whispered, and opened his arms wide.

And then they were in each other’s arms, kneeling on the bed clinging fiercely and sharing long wet kisses. Jim was laughing a bit shakily, and Spock buried his face against his lover’s neck.

“Jim?”

“Yes, love?”

“I am fatigued. Let us lie down and make use of the blankets.”

Jim laughed again, and his arms tightened. “First, let me clean you up. I seem to have made quite a mess.”

Spock pulled back to survey them both. “You must also clean yourself,” he pointed out logically. “Our embrace has transferred some of the `mess’ to you.”

Jim leaned forward to capture his lips in a long and tender kiss. He murmured, “That’s the way it should be, love,” then hopped off the bed in search of cleansing cloths.

When they were both clean again and Spock had straightened the blankets, they lay again in the bed. Only this time their arms were loosely wrapped around each other as they lay side by side, and they were staring deeply into each other’s eyes.

The smile was still in Jim’s eyes. “You go first,” he suggested.

“Very well. Why did you do that?”

A shrug. “If we were going to be playing a dominance game, I thought I should get a turn too.”

“Indeed. That seems to be... equitable.”

“Are you still angry? You don’t feel angry.” He gave Spock’s pliant upper arm on which his fingers rested a little shake.

“Indeed not. The events of this evening have given me a somewhat different perspective than I had before.”

A swift grin. “Me too.” Jim’s hand went down to gingerly rub his ass. “That was quite a pounding you gave me.”

Quick concern. “Are you injured? Did I hurt you?”

“No. Just a little tender, I think.” The hand came back up, and gently caressed Spock’s cheek. Jim’s voice became deeper. “I liked it.”

“As did I. I would....” Even in these intimate circumstances, Spock still found some things difficult to say. He forced himself to continue. “I would... enjoy a repetition of that performance, with a slight change, of course.”

The hand was still lightly stroking his cheek, and hazel eyes were alight with mischief, and with love. “A slight change, eh? I think I could manage that. Wouldn’t have anything to do with this, would it?” And he gently massaged the small of Spock’s back.

Spock dropped his eyes. “You are too perceptive,” he murmured, and pushed back against the touch of the comforting fingers.

“Only where you’re concerned, Spock.” The gentle massage continued for a few moments, and Spock closed his eyes in contentment. He could quite easily fall asleep exactly as they were....

“Do you still love me?? A whisper in his ear.

Spock’s eyes flew open. Jim had never needed to be reassured before, had accepted the few times Spock had expressed the words with joy, but had never pushed for more. Now, the question had been asked with a heart-rending hint of insecurity.

Spock pulled up close to his lover and kissed him gently. “I love you, Jim. You know that I do, and I always will.”

Kirk sighed, and closed his eyes. They kissed again, not passionately, a loving closed-mouth kiss that spoke of many other tomorrows and nights of passion, which they would share.

They pulled apart at last, and by common consent settled back down onto their backs to sleep, arms still in contact. Spock could not resist another comment.

“However, it is true that interpersonal relationships such as ours are extremely complex, are they not?”

A yawn from the other side of the bed. “I’ll say. That’s what makes them so interesting.”

“Indeed. I did not contemplate that my acquaintance with Ms. Featherstone would lead to such an... interesting evening.”

“Right.” Sleep was beginning to sound in Kirk’s voice.

“Jim?”

“Yes, Spock?”

“If you ever behave in such a reprehensible manner again, I will...,” the body next to his tensed, “I will compel you to consume plomeek soup every day for a week.”

“Oh, yeah?” Mock outrage sounded. “Well, if you ever act so priggish and bossy again, I’ll get Ensign Chekov to tell you Russian jokes for fifteen minutes seven days in a row!”

“That is a fate to be avoided. But I believe I could emerge from the experience with my sanity intact.”

“And I hate plomeek soup. But I could eat it if I had to.”

Could anything else in the universe rival the joy that filled Spock’s heart now? Knowing that they were two, knowing that they would be one, knowing that two independent souls would find a way to live and love together?

“Good-night, Jim.”

“Good-night, Spock. Sleep tight.”

Spock closed his eyes. But before he could command his brain to rest for the night, he had an idea. There would still be time before they warped out during first shift. It was possible that he would be able to contact Diana Featherstone, and make copies of some very special tapes, for a very special person....

Spock fell asleep with the slightest of smiles on his lips.

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Reflections on a Lunar Landscape was originally printed in the K/S zine Counterpoint 7, edited by Marion Flanders and Emily Adams, 1992


End file.
